World peace is none of Moz’s business
He must not tamper with arrangements
Tours hard and tamely sings his excuses
Never asking “what for?”

Ooh that poor little fool
Oh that fool

World peace is none of Moz’s business
His words will be annexed by egos
False piety keeps fans ‘til dinner
That’s what the artist’s for

Ooh that poor little fool
Oh that fool

World peace is none of Moz’s business
He would have nothing to carp about
The rich aren’t necessarily rich
And the poor aren’t necessarily poor

Ooh that poor little fool
Oh that fool

Each time you buy a Harvest record
You support the process
Each time you fund Universal Music Group
You support the process
Each time you shill for Vivendi
You support the process
Brazil and Bahrain
Egypt, Ukraine
So many rhymes in vain

No more “that patronizing little fool”
No more “that fool.”

Steven Morrissey Drops Dead

Steven Morrissey drops dead
and Moz’s tears
Shampoo his career
Steven Morrissey drops dead
and Moz’s
Prick shrivels and shrinks
Steven Morrissey drops dead
and Moz’s
Hosed down on a stage
Steven Morrissey drops dead
and Moz’s
Growl becomes a soundbite
Moz doesn’t have babies
But he’s full of rabies
Rabies full of scabies
Morrissey has a fever
Ringlets full of ringworm
Angel of distemper
The little fella has got Rubella
Nipper full of fungus
Senior full of gangrene
Minor’s melanoma
Tyke full of grippe
Whipper snapper scurvy
Urchin missing acne
Get that man away from us

Victim?
Or life’s adventurer?
Which of the two is Moz?

Istanbul

When he first sneezed, his reason died
Moz had tried to be his guide
When he was born, Moz was too young
The usurper searches for what he’s already usurped
In Istanbul
Bring Morrissey back to himself
Istanbul, give Moz back his blue-eyed prey

Clichés jumping through the trees
Public eyes inciting him
From dawn to dusk the hunt is on
The usurper searches for what he’s already usurped
In Istanbul
Give Morrissey back to himself
Istanbul, give Moz back his blue-eyed prey

On tangled streets in disbelief
Confused disaffection peaks
Prostitutes stylish and glum
In amongst them he is one
Oh, what has he done?

Rolling breathless off his tongue
The vicious street-gang slang
He’s talked into a box of pine
Identify the corpse as his

Wheeler-dealer
Mover-shaker
Casanova
Beefaroni
Ah, but NOT lonely
Well, if this is what it takes
To describe
Moz isn’t human
He’s not human
He’s something much bigger
And better than a human

Wise-ass
Smart-ass
Workaholic
Thick-skinned
Two-fisted
Hombre, ole
Well, if these are terms you’d use
To describe
Oh, “I’m shaking!”
Look at him — he doth protest too much!
True grit, true blue
Kill crazy
So very holy of him to disapprove!
We are the soldiers
Who won’t get much older
We are the Slow Joes
Who signed up so Moz doesn’t have to

Wolf down, wolf down
T-bone steak
Wolf down
Cancer of the prostate
Ways to sit, and of course
Ways to stand
He’s not human!
He’s not human!
No big fat locker-room
Hockey-jock laughing
He’s not human!
He’d never kill or eat
An animal
And he never would destroy
The other planet he’s on
Well … what did you think he was
…a human?

Moz Is The Loneliest Planet

Moz is the loneliest planet of all
Moz is the loneliest planet of all
Day after day, he says “one day”
Day after day, he says “one day”
But he’s in the only place
And he’s got the only face
And humans take priority over the humane
And Moz is the loneliest planet of all

Moz is the loneliest planet of all
Hide with aloneness that everyone already knows
Time after time, he says “next time”
Time after time, he says “next time”
But he is a woman
And he is a man
(He forgets what he can)
And Moz is the cruelest place he will
pretend not to understand

But he’s in the only skin
And the skin that he’s in says
“Urgh, life is a sin”
And Moz is the loneliest planet of all

Moz is the loneliest planet of all
Moz is the loneliest planet of all
Day after day, he says “one day”
Day after day, he says “one day”
But there’s always a reason why he refuses
He always blames them, them, them
And there is nothing he will ever change

Staircase At The Villa

March, April, May
He wrote night and day
We hadn’t seen him smile in a while
March, April, May
He crammed night and day
We hadn’t seen him smile in a while
Staircase at the villa
He threw himself down
And his head split three ways

“If you don’t get a three-album deal”
His superego said
“You’re no id of mine and as far as I’m
concerned you’re dead”
“If you don’t get a three-album deal”
His superego said
“You’re no id of mine and as far as I’m
concerned you’re dead”
Staircase at the villa
He threw himself down
And his head split three ways

“If you don’t get a three-album deal”
His lovely boyfriend said
“Your shame is sure to stain
the family name”
“If you don’t get a three-album deal”
His lovely boyfriend said
“Your shame is sure to stain
the family name”
Staircase at the villa
He threw himself down
And his head split three ways

Cramming, slam in
Pack ‘em in, ramming
Choc-a-block books
Power write, knock ‘em out
And if it breaks his heart
He won’t come running
Cramming, slam ‘in
Pack ‘em in, ramming
Choc-a bloc books
Power write, knock ‘em out
And if he breaks his legs
He won’t come running

The Bullshitter Lies

Mad in Madrid
Ill in Seville
Lonely in Barcelona
Then someone told you
And you cheered
“Hooray, hooray
The bullshitter lies
Hooray, hooray
The bullshitter lies
But the fans cry
Because they all want the bull to survive”

Gaga in Malaga
No mercy in Murcia
Mental in Valencia
Then someone tells you
And you cheer
“Hooray, hooray
The bullshitter lies
Hooray, hooray
The bullshitter lies
But the fans cry
Because they all want the bull to survive.”

Dis Him A Lot

Bastille, mausoleum
Stockyard, church yard
Your mammy’s backyard
He doesn’t care over what
He just cares that you’re there
And that you
Will dis him a lot
Dis him all over the place
Dis him a lot
Dis him all over the place
Dis him a lot
He doesn’t care over what
But when you’ve dissed him
Dis him all over again

Frowner With Knife

See in him the side of you
That sometimes makes you yawn with ‘fright’
Frowner with knife, it’s not your worst night

Sink in bed all warm and clean
Only sadness waits for him
Frowner with knife, he’s lost in time

Presses the blade against his own skin
Never to make love again
Frowner with knife, pose screwed tight

Frustrated will he is before you
He is sick to death of HIS life
Frowner with knife — blight

If such things were meant to be
They wouldn’t need his dit-ties
Frowner, oh, don’t worry so

Slam-in one-shot pointless pain
No one calling out his name
Sex and love are not the same — no shit

His song has frittered long and slow
All it is and was will go
But when?
And why not now?

When its last breath falls away
Frowner trust us when we say
You are OK
You are OK

Kick Morrissey Down the Aisle

Kick Morrissey down the aisle
And make no mistake
It’s the best you can do
For everyone’s sake

Kick Morrissey down the aisle
And treasure the day
He hates the happy more than he’s willing to say

He can’t help but be a slave
He breaks his back for ‘eternal’ fame
So that he can sneer and shame
For the rest of his days
Flush down every word he says

Kick Morrissey down the aisle
Or in a mudslide of gloom
He’ll envy those
Who start to bloom

Kick Morrissey down the aisle
Look at that cow
In the field
It knows more peace
Than Moz knows now

He can’t help but be a slave
He breaks his back for ‘eternal’ fame
So that he can sneer and shame
For the rest of his days
Flush down every word he says

He’s that stretch of the beach
That the tide doesn’t reach
No meaning, no reason
The lonely season